Unknown As Of Yet
by Roshiyu
Summary: Title will change. Rated T at the moment, will rise later. Current story overview within my author's page. Classic Robbery.
1. Chapter 1

A new thought, a new story. Time passes, and once again I find myself drawn to the FanFiction boards. Good news, or bad news for you all? I have no clue. It all depends on whether or not you like my story. Anyway, before I get to all the formalities, I have news for you all.

You guys get to think of the title. Simply reply, and after lets say... Ten or so, I'll select one I find I like. Mostly because, for the death of me, I can't think of one.

Now, onto the disclaimer! (Which I do only at the beginning of my stories.)

Disclaimer: The only thing I own are my original characters, and the plot.

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Unknown As Of Yet

_Darkness, Despair, Desolation, No-one ever wishes those feelings, dreams, states of mind, whatever you wish to call them, upon other humans. However, in this world of ours, it's no dream that they exist, working their ways into those that are weak. Like me. You see, in America, the usual motto is, live off what you earn. If you make a lot, you gain a life of luxury. On the opposite side of the spectrum, if you don't make much... It's rough. The darkness envelopes you._

The darkness lifted, revealing an apartment. Torn and drooping wallpaper, left there, stained by water, and other liquids. The carpet was in no better shape. torn, and ripped in places, creating long strands of the worn, scratchy fabric. Many more stains inhabited the carpet as well, ranging in a variety of colors such as dark, metallic red, to dreary, muddy browns.

All of this was ignored by both a young, naive boy no older then five years of age, and an older, world worn woman in her early twenties. Both of them sitting at a cheap, plastic table which was, compared to the room, moderately clean. Each of them were finishing their half of a single sandwich, the only food in the home. The sounds of men, drunken, and likely high on drugs, pounded throughout the complex. One so close that they heard the man puking. The sound of his watery vomit splashing against the wall.

Both woman and child finished their sandwiches, and soon it was off to bed. Although their conditions were dire, the woman was, apparently, as much of a mother as she could be. The boy's room was sparsely decorated, with only a few stuffed toys. But his bed wasn't as run down as everything else. It seemed fairly new. She tucked him in, underneath the covers, and left the room.

As if it were clockwork, after supper, he would be tucked in. Then soon after that, the whore upstairs would lead her nightly customer to her bedroom, and the sounds of their lusty union would trickle down through the floor into his room. This was only the first of many women who would soon join in on the chorus of moans. It didn't bother him though. He was used to the sounds. _The darkness enveloped him._

Years had passed, and that little naive boy had grown. He was no longer naive to his surroundings. He was with another boy, a few years older then himself, at most. They were friends, and this friend had taught him far more about his surrounding then he figured out on his own. What to do, what not to do, the people to avoid. They were close, like brothers, playing together, unless his friend was at his school. He wondered what school was, but knew he couldn't go.

They also worked together. After hearing a story from his friend, he had wanted to work, shining shoes. With help from both the boy's parents, they got fresh cloths, shoe polish, and a set of home-made shoe-shining boxes. When not playing, or at school, the boys would go to the main streets, and shine shoes. Splitting the profits equally. After which, the boy would go home, have supper, and go to sleep. _The darkness enveloped him._

The boy had not changed much, showing that not much time had passed. But that didn't bar the seasons. He had been wrapped up in a grimy, worn jacket. As usual he was playing with his friend, this time near a basketball court, which was occupied. The boy was sad that he couldn't play in the court, but knew not to try.

A group of kids, older then himself, at ages ranging sixteen to twenty, were playing. They were marked with symbols upon their faces, arms, chests, and other exposed areas. Some of them even wore jewelry, from simple hoops, where their skin was pierced, to necklaces, and rings. Only bad people wore things like that. That's what his friend had said.

It would be much later that the boy would learn that groups of older boys like that were known as gangs. New to the various worlds of crime. Doing illegal things such as trafficking drugs, guns, and prostitutes, to make money. That some of their whore room were also based in the very apartment building he lived in.

It never occurred to the boy that his life, the life of his friend, and the lives of the gang mere many yards away from them would intertwine that day. It was fast. Both boys were chipping away at the crumbling pavement, seeing how far they could take the damage today. Such fun was interrupted, though, by the sound of screeching wheels. They were only able to look up, and watch.

The court was right along the street. On that street were two cars, of unknown make, colored black and red. Flashes of light were coming from the windows, and they were accompanied by a sound very similar to dragging a stick across a wooden fence. But this was much louder. He knew what it was. Gunfire. He had heard it before, of course. What person didn't, living in the slums? This was his first time seeing it though.

He couldn't remember quite what happened. But he knew he felt something rip through his body, then falling to the ground, spasming, and cringing. Immense pain slowly migrating up his arm, filling his mind with nothing but that single, searing feeling. He barely noticed the tears streaming down his face. Darkness surrounded him, with his eyes closed. He kept it that way. No longer hearing gunfire, he brought his lone, uninjured hand to his arm. It was wet, but not like water usually made it. This was warmer, stickier in a way. He had the strong urge to clamp his hand around the area, and followed through on it, sending another rush of pain throughout his body.

Everything eventually went numb, and faded from reality. The shadow of unconsciousness took away his senses, pain, feelings, and thoughts. The last of which was simply:_This is... Nice._ For better or worse, _the darkness enveloped him._

The boys mother had always treated him like an adult, once he had started his shoe-shine business. It applied to everything in his life, be it chores, talks, work, or his teachings. Because of this, his mother was very blunt with news. So much so, that she appeared to be cold, and very uncaring, no matter how much that was untrue.

Days later, when she walked into the hospital room, with her hard, and neutral facial fixture, the boy could already tell she was going to say something. Something he didn't want to hear. Something very bad. Something he would need to hear.

In the shooting, there was a total of seven victims. Four were injured, and three were dead. At first the boy didn't understand. He knew he was one of the injured people. What did it matter if bad people killed more bad people, as well? And his friend never screamed out in pain. His friend was uninjured. He probably was the one who reported the shooting, which saved his own life. The boy said this to his mother, but she only shook her head. Her reply shattered his thoughts, and his hope.

He had been one of the dead, killed instantly by a stray bullet. At first, the sheer amount of shock, and painkiller had kept him quiet. Almost calm, in a surreal way. But in only moments the pain, based in mental realms, broke him. His friend was dead.

The uproar he caused soon brought the hosipal staff in. They restrained him, and injected a sedative into his bloodstream. Forcefully, _the darkness enveloped him._


	2. Chapter 2

Everything was as it should have been in the Vico residence. Moonlight, as always, was dissallowed entrance into the apartment by means of thick, ebon curtains. Throwing the room into a blend of darkness, and peaceful, overpowering, nothingness. Everything was perfect in that one moment, but was disrupted, as always, but one lone drop of water, crashing into the bottom of a deep, empty sink. This disruption, in vain, occurred every twealth second.

Everything else in the apartment was normal. With minimal amounts of furniture within each room, as it always had been.

The kitchen was no more then a simple hallway leading off of the entrance. With bland, unwashed white cupboards lining the walls near the ceiling. Leaving a fair gap of space, before the cheap, gray vinyl counters, and matching cabinets took over the rest of the space, all the way to the ground. Sitting atop the counter, beside the sink, as always, was a pile of dirty, uncleaned dishes. A dusty, opal, toaster oven sat beside that at the edge of the counter.

The counter was soon cut off, and in the remaining space, was a table. Small, rectangular, but with rounded corners, only about six feet in length. Made of wood, and stained in a darker color, but it was heavily scratched in places. There were only two chairs, both matching in colors, and condition, surrounding it. Sitting on top of the table was a small mountain of cardboard boxes, each of which were white.

Behind all of that, was what remained visible behind the pile of boxes. A window, covered by thick black curtains, which extended to the edge of the kitchen's open doorway.

In the joined room, was the living room-cum-sleeping quarters. Across from the table, in the opposing corner, was a computer stand, large, old, sturdy, and in even worse shape then the table. On it, was many things, but the most prominent would have been the computer tower. Large, white, and clunky. Hidden away by that, an Xbox 360, squeezed between the tower and the small, sixteen inch T.V. On the raised shelf, which was only two inches higher, and surrounded by original wooden braces, was one of the newer looking pieces of technology, second only to the Xbox. A twenty inch computer screen.

That was the only amount of order in the chaos though. There were papers, CD cases, and cards strewn all over the computer desk, whether directly on it, or in close proximity. Excluding the keyboard, and mouse, of course. Tucked away within the desk's crevice was a chair identical to the two at the table.

Nestled within the opposite, diagonal corner of the room was a queen sized bed. It's blankets were ruffled and thrown about by the only occupant in the establishment. Vincent Vico, a man with jagged, features, and sunken, pale skin. Short, black hair swirled in the mess it was, although it went unnoticed now. Overall, except for height, he looked small compared to the bed he was on. He wasn't of a muscular build, but he wasn't fat, either. He was just skinny.

Jerking around as well, whipping his arms now, and then, as if he were dreaming, and having bad ones at that. Without warning, a gasp resounded throughout the room, with it's owner, Vincent, sitting up right away.

A sullen grumble escaped him after, as he reached towards the night table. On it, along with his clock, water glass, and gun, was a bottle pills. He picked it up, and undid the lid, by twisting it, and the bottle, in opposite directions. The label read SerenitePlus. A couple of taps in the center of his palm was all it needed, as the bottle, with a fair amount of rustling inside, relinquished the treasure Vincent desired. A few pills, and he'd be able to sleep the last few hours he needed to pass the night.

He tossed both pills into his mouth, followed soon by a gulp of water. His head soon hit the pillows once more, as he grabbed at the blankets strewn about, and covered himself once more. Sweet darkness soon caught up with him.

The Stoneson district was what anyone would expect from a slum. It's buildings were old, and poorly kept. The lawns no better, brown in death. Garbage was everywhere, unbagged, in heaps or simply blowing throughout the streets.

Along apartment buildings in various stages of upkeep, one could find women for hire. Their prices, and looks all varied, but the fairer, and more expensive usually were set up in the better kept buildings. Simple business practices, at least that's what the women were told.

Hidden in the ally-ways, or sometimes, boldly standing out in the open, were the men, and some women, in the trade of drugs. Selling identical products, although each one had their own discounts, and so forth, to keep them above the competition.

One thing was out of place, however. One older, well kept car was driving through the entire district, over and over again. Not once stopping to either buy drugs, or pick up a woman. Only leaving the area to refuel, which had been once in the day, so far, before returning. Music wasn't blaring from the radio, but with the window partially open, it was loud enough to hear. It was an eighties rock station. As for the man himself, inside the car, he was huge, to say the least. Not in a fully muscular way, but just sheer size.

Sam Gommersall was that man. Within the criminal gutter of Vegas, he wasn't someone to turn your back on. He was more then willing to prove it as well. However, there were a few people who could do so, and survive. His superiors, of course, and well paying ones at that. Personally, if they weren't, he would have put bullets in their backs a long time ago. At the moment, he was ordered to patrol the Stoneson slum, a medium profit drug, and prostitution area.

Without warning, he heard a very familiar ring tone, accompanied by the faint vibrations coming from his belt. Having been long used to his cellphone, one hand removed itself from the steering wheel, and removed the phone from it's casing clipped to his waist. With his gruff voice, he answered. "Hello?"

"Ello Sam. Top of the morn'n to ya." Came a chipper, if sleepy voice from the other end. Sam grinned, it was Vince, an occasional, if odd business partner of sorts. Only that guy would call at two in the afternoon, and call it morning. Sam shifted in his seat, so he could hold the phone with his shoulder, while he turned down the music.

"Yeah, yeah, Vincent. What ya want with me? I'm doing something at the moment." It was the truth, even if it was just simply patrolling, while he wasted gas in his car.

"Oh, ya are? Sorry 'bout that. Was just wondering if I could get a ride, or something. But I can walk." Was all Vincent had said

"Don't give me that shit now. No need to apologize, and there's no need to walk. You'll get your ride, if you pay for lunch."

"Given the choice, I'll walk. You'll eat away my paycheck, ya fat Bastard!"

Vince could be heard laughing, as Sam gave his reply. "At least I've got some muscle, Skeleton Bastard ya are! Anyway, I'll be around in about ten minutes." With one last chuckle, he took a right, onto the main street that would take him to Vincent's apartment. Of all his partners, that guy was the craziest, or so Sam thought. But in a good way.

Even fewer people called Sam fat. But Vince could. Just something about him, Sam guessed.

Vincent was sitting at the table. The ebon curtains had been drawn aside, allowing an overview for the grime covered street below, as he waited for Sam. To pass the time, he had taken a few piles of unsorted cards, and after searching through the mountain of boxes, was now filing them in their rightful place. Every minute, give or take a few seconds, he would check for Sam's black car as well.

Before he was able to finish his sorting, there was a honk of a horn. He took a quick glance out the window, and parked in it's usual spot, was Sam's car. Getting up, he peeked through the open doorway at his night table. The clock on it read two twenty-three. It had only been six minutes since he called. Sam must have been hungry, if he came that quickly. Vince chuckled at the thought.

As he left the apartment, he grabbed a light coat hanging beside the door, before closing it. He inserted a key into the deadbolt lock, and turned, until he heard the click. It didn't take him long to race down all four sets of stairs, and into the main entrance room. As he opened the doors, which were enforced by many small, metallic wires criss-crossing throughout the glass panes, a slight breeze caught him off guard, forcing a chill to run down his spine. He zipped up his jacket while crossing the distance between himself and Sam's car.

When he reached the car, he heard the doors unlock. Sam was never to careful, but he wasn't one to let himself get caught off-guard. Vince pulled the door handle, allowing the door to swing out wide, giving himself plenty of space to enter. Once in, he closed the door, as Sam started the engine. Without a seconds waste they were off.

Although Sam had no directions, he chose the quickest rout out of the Pardoner Slums. Turning right, onto the street that would lead him to the main one-way out of the district. Before they made it to the one-way, however, Sam broke the silence. "So, where to Vince? Your paying, your choice."

"The usual, of course. I heard Lair has a new shipment in."

Sam gave off a belittling laugh, but took another turn, this time northwards, before replying smugly. "Your worse then a kid sometimes, ya know that? Cards are for kids, not men. And the restaurant beside it's nothing but greasy burgers, to."

"I'll agree with ya 'bout Burger Baron," Vince retorted, "It is shit, but decent 'nuff for a quick meal. Just don't 'dis my habits. Drowning yourself in beer and cheap hookers ain't much better."

"You lay off on the ladies, I'll lay off on the cards, eh?" Although slightly mad at the statement, he kept calm, "Anyway, we're almost there."

It didn't take them long to make it over to their desired destination. After the turn, it only took a few minutes at most to leave the district, and enter one of slightly more wealth. Enough, at least, to class it above a poor title, if barely. It was in the Rookwood District, which was nestled in between Stoneson and Pardoner, where Lair and Burger Baron were found. Sam chose to park in front of Lair, where Vincent would stop first, as always.

Both of them got out, and made their way towards the shop. With Sam pressing a button on his key-chain while they climbed the cement steps. It was an old, worn, wooden building with paint chipping off here and there. However, the sign set above the door, which read The Dragon's Lair in neon lights, was a new addition. Vincent did notice, but still made his way into the store as usual. Turning the knob, and pushing the door in, which triggered the bells that always went off when someone entered.

Inside there were row upon row of glass doored cabinets, spanning from wall to wall. Creating nine aisles in total, all of which were made of display cases. Each aisle had four sets of glass cabinets, reaching from front to the back counter. In each set were five cases. Each set held a different type of card. Types ranged from sports cards, like hockey, to types of trading cards, like Magic: The Gathering.

Sam, instead of following Vince, took a detour towards the sports cards sections, although he spent most of his time looking at hockey cards in specific.

Vincent went straight towards the counter behind all the glass cases. It spread from wall to wall, with it's outwards side made of glass, as well, so whatever was on the shelves inside the counter could be displayed. On the back wall was even more shelves, although they were filled with the only stock that wasn't cards. Anime, manga, comic books, hockey bobble heads, and other things, whatever a person could ever need for their collection. In the center of the wall, was a blanket draped over what Vincent knew was a door. A black rat, angry, bearing it's front incisors, was depicted on the blanket.

Sam had only been in the shop a few times. Instead of following Vince, he did what he had done every single time he came in. He took a detour towards the sports cards sections. He usually spent most of his time looking at hockey cards in specific.

Sitting on a chair, and watching a small TV in the corner, behind the counter, was the card shop owner. This man, known as Rat, was only a year or so older then Vince, putting him close to twenty-four. Long, messy black hair was drawn back into a loose ponytail. Dressed in black, skinny, and with glasses, Vincent felt he was a mix between geek, and goth, but the guy always delivered. "Eh, Rat, any shipment's come in?"

Rat looked away from his TV, which was playing an anime, Black Lagoon by the looks of it. "Vice," Rat piped up, using his usual nickname for Vince, "Knew you'd come sooner or later. Just wait a moment or two." He stood up, and disappeared behind the curtain, snapping the joints of his fingers while doing so. In only a few minutes, he came out, carrying two separate cardboard boxes stacked on one another. Each was stamped with various numerical codes, and phrases, that only the post office would understand. With a dull thud Rat set them on the counter, then removed the top one from it's spot, and set it beside the other box.

"Just got some Lorwyn, and Digi-Battle four in," Rat stated, in a cheerily smug way, "Hard to find series four these days, since Bandai stopped all printing. I assume the usual?"

"Yep. Fat-pack, box of tournies, and a box of packs for Lorwyn." Vince paused for a moment, thinking about something, then said, "Hell, all the series four ya have as well."

Rat smirked as he removed a box knife from his pocket, and opened both boxes up. "Here I thought you'd be charitable, and leave me with some series four."

Vincent was digging around in his pockets, attempting to remove his wallet. With a chuckle, he pulled out the leather bound casing for his money, and replied. "You know me, cold'n ruthless as always. So how much'll it be?"

"Well," Rat began, in his matter of fact business tone, "Four boxes of series four, a fat-pack, tournament pack, and a booster box, that all equals to about five-hundred, seventy-six dollars, and forty-three cents."

Vincent pulled out six one-hundred dollar bills, leaving two visible bills, which were partially pulled out, left within his wallet, and handed the cash over to Rat. The till opened up with a ding, and the money was left in one of the slots, while Rat dug out his change.

"Twenty-three, fifty-seven's your change," He said, holding the change out in his hand, "And I'll be expecting you to sell me some singles, and play sets, Vice."

Vince took the money, and put it all into his wallet, each bill and coin in it's correct spot. "Sure thing, but I'm keeping all the good stuff for myself."

Rat reached underneath the counter, and ripped four large generic bags off the group while Vince was speaking. Soon after he finished bagging the cards. setting them on the counter, in front of Vince, before replying. "Yeah, I know. Always sell me the crap cards, and I can't sell 'em except to the odd casual player. Now get outa here, before I boot you out. Missin' my anime because of you."

With a wave, before picking up the bags, Vince left Rat alone, and made his way towards Sam, who was busy glancing around at the hockey cards. "So, what'cha looking at?" He asked, although the reason was obsolete. It was obvious what he was looking at. 'The Cup' Upperdeck Hockey Cards 2005-2006 was what it said on the box.

"Can you believe the price of that? Thousand bucks for a box of cards. Crazy I tell ya." However, Sam didn't look exasperated, or repulsed by the price, unlike the tone he used.

"One of the reasons I don't go for hockey cards. Although," Vincent pointed to a few single cards labeled on the shelves, "Those come from the set, and they're far more then a thousand dollars." He paused for a moment before asking, "Shall we get something to eat now?"

Instead of answering right away, Sam dug around in his pockets, only to pull out his set of keys. He pressed the unlock button, then handed them to Vince. "Ya know what to get me, leave your stuff in the car, and I'll catch up."

It was odd, but not uncommon, for Sam to follow Vince in. For Sam to stay even after he left, that was downright odd, or so Vince thought. Perhaps he was going to buy something. That could explain things a little. So Vince gave a shrug as if to say, 'Okay', then left the card shop. The bells signaling his exit, soon followed by the door closing behind him. since the car was already unlocked, all he had to do was set the bags inside, then lock the car once more, before heading across the street towards Burger Baron.

Inside Burger Baron was a similar set-up to all other fast food places. And Vince didn't give the generic surroundings much thought, as he entered the back end of the short line-up. Thoughts of what he may, or may not get for his money filled his mind. It was always a risk with cards, unless you went the Ebay path, but that was far more expensive usually.

It wasn't long before he was finally up to order. Drinks were both the same, large cokes. A double cheeseburger for himself, and a mozzarella burger for Sam, was all he ordered to go with, before sitting down at one of the small tables. His thoughts about what he would get out of his cards kept him busy once more.

Soon Sam showed up, carrying a bag of his own. He headed straight over to Vince, and sat down at the opposite end of the table, setting the bag on top. "I know what your thinking, and no. I'm not collecting cards. More like gambling with them, I'd say. Better odds then the lottery, but smaller payouts."

Vince didn't say a thing, since there was no need. The grin he was wearing said it all, with sarcastic disbelief. That's the way it stayed, until a waitress walked up, carrying a tray with their orders, which she set down onto the table. She asked the usual questions with a forced cheeriness, but both Vince and Sam politely refused, so she left them to themselves.

At first, all they did was eat in silence. Each of them pausing only to take a sip of their drinks, that is, until Sam broke the silence. "So, where to after this?"

"Geo's I think, haven't had an assignment from him in a while. Knowing him, he'll have a few stacked up." Was all Vincent said, before finishing his burger. Sam just nodded, and finished his own. Grabbing both their drinks, and the tray, they made their way to the exit. Dumping the garbage from the tray into one of the garbages along the way, and leaving the tray on the shelf on top.

In no time at all, they were in the car, and heading to yet another district. The Decatur District, a high end middle-class area. It was a twenty minute drive to Geovannie's home there, which passed by fairly quickly with the help of the radio. The man, as far as Vince knew, loved to flaunt his money from the crime trades, but didn't do so to boldly. Even Geovannie wasn't stupid enough to invite the police into his dealings, although it would be hard to find anything. His club appeared as legitimate as they came, for a corrupt city.

Once there, Vincent didn't waste any time getting out, and had grabbed a few of his bags, but Sam held up a hand. "No need, I'll wait then give ya a ride back. Beats patrolling a crack-head district anyway."

"Thanks Sam, I owe ya one." Vincent closed the car door, then made his way up the stone-work pathway. Only being stopped for a short few seconds by the iron gate, which he opened, then closed easily. At the door, he gave a light knock, then waited. Once he heard the muffled 'Come in!' he entered.

He opened the door. Nobody was there to greet him in the entrance hall, but that wasn't a bother. Geo would be found in his living room, as always. There were shoes left at the front door, on a rug, but he didn't remove his. Instead, he traversed the house untill he found the Geovani in the living room, as expected. "Geo, how's it going?"

Geovani was what you'd expect from a club owner, at least appearance-wise. Nice, trim suite, with well groomed, if slightly rounded features. However, he was completely lax, even laid back, compared to most people in the business. "Hey man, I'm doing decent, and ya'self?"

The small chat continued for a few minutes, but sooner, rather then later, Vince broke the casual air.

"Anyway, ya have any jobs for me?" It wasn't that Vince hated the guy, but the way he treated this job, it felt that he was overlooking every detail, yet always had something going on. Geo had an alternate plan in the back of his head, and it was something you didn't want to know.

"Done with the chat already? Man, your all business, just like every other Schmuck. But your a cheap Schmuck, an that's why I like ya." As Geo spoke, he reached out towards a stack of papers on the coffee table, and began filtering through them. He took a quick glance at each page, before either passing to the next, or pulling it out, and setting it aside. After he went through the entire stack, there were seven pages removed, and in disarray. He lifted up a briefcase from beside the couch, and opened it, before putting the papers inside.

"There you go, your next assignments." He slide the case across the table, so that it was in front of Vince. "I need them done before the month's end. Each are priced according to your standards, but if ya feel their a little to low, just tell me. We'll negotiate on a price, if I'm feeling generous."

Vince only nodded, before standing up, and heading in the direction of the entrance hallway. However, before he could leave, Geovannie added a little extra incentive. "These are top priority cases. They don't get done, your done."

He disappeared behind the wall, and made his way to the front door. With his shoes already on, he burst through the door, and closed it none to gently after. If Geo was threatening him like that, then he better be paid in full, or so he thought, as he made his way to Sam's car.

As he got in, Sam was about to say something, he could tell, but then Sam stopped. Vince couldn't help it. When Geo got to him, his neutral, emotionless glare would always appear. That was another reason he didn't like Geo. The Bastard always pushed his buttons, whether he tried or not.

"I'd like to go home Sam, sort through what I bought, and my workload." Sam only nodded, and turn the car around, heading towards the Pardoner District once more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, next chapter is up. I hope you like it. The ending, to me, seems a bit forced and not quite as good as the rest of my writing. Maybe that's me, though... Or the battle scene. Either way, I hope you enjoy it, once again, and maybe review?**

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The door to Vince's apartment gave off a faint click, as the deadbolt released. After which, it opened up to reveal an irate Vince, and was slammed soon after. He didn't mean to do so, but Geo had put him in a bad mood. As he took off his shoes, he felt that he needed to do was relax. As he passed through the apartment, he dropped the bags full of cards on the table, and went straight to his computer desk.

Once there, he removed the chair from it's place within the desk's crevice, and sat down. With a press of the power button, he waited. It took half a minute for the welcome screen to appear. He entered the required password, then waited a few seconds longer as windows vista started up. One by one, all the programs started up, and appeared in the bottom right. Anti-virus, Bittorrent, and Limewire, among other things. But he wasn't worried about them. He double clicked the firefox icon on his desktop, bringing up the google web page.

Now he could begin his regular rounds on the net. Being a young adult male, that meant only shady, sexual, or pirating sites. With very few legitimate sites among them. If there was something new, he would simply check it out. If not, then he would move onto the next site in his long list of bookmarks. It took almost an hour.

After he finished with all the internet stops, he closed the browser, then opened up his music files. Today he didn't pick through the songs. Opting to just hit the play all button, set media player on loop, and random, then leave it, instead. He set the speakers loud enough to fill his home, but not loud enough to disturb others.

Feeling a little bit better, he got up from his desk, and after returning the chair to it's place, sat down at the table. Withdrawing all the boxes from their bags. First off, he decided to sort through the magic cards. There was more of them then the digimon, so it would take a lot longer. And his magic card boxes were on top of the huge pile, anyway.

At first he opened each pack, one by one, setting each card into one of fourteen separate piles. Black, blue, white, red, green, multicolor, artifact, black land, blue land, white land, red land, green land, special land, and holographic. While doing so, he read the text of each new card he came across. Going through all of the packs, then the tournies, took almost an hours on it's own.

Now he had many piles on the table taking over half the space at his disposal. At first he took the non-land piles, sorted it through rarity, then group all the copies of each card, before finally putting them at the front of a box with same colored cards. Except, of course, for the holographic cards. Those all went into plastic sleeves, before being grouped into proper piles. All in all, it took twice as long to peer through all the cards, and get them sorted correctly.

Next, he looked to the Digi-battle box sets. From what he heard, it was a small expansion, so there wouldn't be to much variety. With a pen, he ripped apart the clear plastic covering a starter box set. After that, he opened up the box set, then a lone starter box in the same matter.The checklist that he removed only validated the rumors. Fifty-four different cards in total.

Yep, he wasted a lot of money, just to get every single card. Four boxes, two of which held packs, while the other two held starters. He was betting he'd get four of every rare, at least! With that thought in mind, he took all the boxes off the table, and brought them into the living room. If there were only fifty-four cards total, then why not separate them all into fifty-fourish piles on the carpet?

It was a lot faster to do it that way, although he created two extra piles. One for cards with gold or silver lettering, and another for holographic cards. Pretty soon all the starter boxes, (With each forty card deck holding one of two card sets,) created massive piles at the center. It felt like a chore, setting the same cards on the same piles. When he finally finished, it was a relief. He started on the actual boosters, knowing things were going to be a little more varied. However, before he knew it, he was down to his last few packs.

By then he had at least almost one of each card, with only two rares left unchecked on the list. It wouldn't be a big loss to him if he missed out on Sacred Fruit, or Wargrowlmon, but it would be nice to complete his collection. There was nothing new in the second-last pack, just a Vikemon as the rare. And in the last pack? Before he opened it, he stretched a little.

Sitting on the floor had given him a few kinks in his back, which snapped right away with a few twists of his back, and rotations of the shoulders. With that, he pick up the last pack, only to drop it right away with a loud zap! He knew he felt it, but what was with the sound? Was it his music, or something else? Must have been a spark from static electricity, or something. He picked the card up once more, without problems, and opened it.

He rifled through the cards quickly. First card was an Allomon... Third was another Tylomon... The fifth card was a Data Duplication. All of them were useless, he had more then enough of those. The second last card was a Soldiers of Nightmares field card, which would complete his set of four. But as he took it from the last remaining card, he paused. The last card in his hand was different then the rest.

Quickly, he set the field card on it's pile, then dived for the check list. He scanned it three times. The only cards he was missing were WarGrawlmon and Rapidmon. This card wasn't either of them. It was a plain red card, with a gray strip along the side. What it was for, he couldn't guess. And the strangest part? In the center was a yellow, pixelated 'D' with a blue dinosaur coming from it. The dinosaur looked remotely like an Agumon.

Setting it aside, he went back to the table and dug out the boxes for his digimon cards from the pile. Grabbing his plastic card sleeves, and one plastic card case as well, before returning to the living room. He sleeved all the gold stamped, and holographic cards, setting them on their correct piles, before filling the boxes with the organized cards. When that was done, he slid the 'D' card into the plastic casing, and set it into his pocket. He knew one person who could answer his question. That, and he was to lazy to search the net for it.

He left the trash, and boxes where they were. Grabbing his coat off of the kitchen counter, he exited the apartment. Only stopping to lock the door, before going off with the intent destination of Rat's card shop.

* * *

After their lunch break, Sam had returned to the Stoneson Slums. As was his luck, everything was as it should have been. Drugged up people still lazing around on doorsteps enjoying their highs. Other's were crashing down, looks of despair, loss, and primal need apparent. Ladies were leaning against walls, or standing alongside the streets around the apartment complexes, as always. Dressed in semi-revealing, to simply audacious, clothing, tailored to lure in men of all ages, and states of mind. 

In the end, he gave them all no mind. Things were as they should have been. Instead, after a few laps patrolling the area, he parked beside a trash-ridden, and derelict playground. As the neighborhood around the park decayed, so did the park. Nothing remained usable. The only thing left relatively intact was the swing set. That wasn't saying much though, considering an entire side of the structure was sheered off at the top bar, from both hooligans and rust. Now it was left to it's own demise, propped up by the top brace, and it's lone remaining side.

Sam looked away from the park, opting to do other things with his time, other then reminiscing about the past. Turning around, so that he was now facing the back seat, he reached out. Hooking the plastic bag sitting there, before he brought it up to the front with him. He had planned to open the damn box at home, but he felt the urge to do so now.

With a deft stroke of his pocket knife, the plastic which was surrounding the box was no longer a barrier. Moments after, the box was open to reveal all of it's possible cash cards still entrapped within their packs. However tempted he might have been, he didn't open them.

Something had caught his attention within the park. Two groups of men were walking towards one another. One group, coming from the left, was the generic gang he had come to see in the slums. All of them were punks. Most of them were colored. African American, a few Asian, even a Mexican or so Sam thought, along with a few white. All of them were dressed similar. The group on the right, however, were little more then college students. Dressed in uniforms, they looked like upper-class men. By their build, they seemed to be more of an athletic type. Some men from each group were carrying guns in the open.

Sam set the box of cards down, intent on watching this. He didn't know what the hell was going on, but he'd find out.

* * *

Rat was watching anime on his small television. Other then stocking the store, that's all there was to do all day during business hours. He always cleaned after closing, then again, before opening. Only the rare occasion allowed him to clean during business hours, and they were never the best kinds either. 

Unlike before, he had switched from his previous show, Black Lagoon. Now he was watching something a little more family friendly, Inuyasha. He rarely had customer's under the age of thirteen, considering the area. It sometimes happened though, usually with their parents. Having a violent anime, which was rated mature, playing in the background wasn't the best incentive for those customers to come back.

Rat was brought out of his televised trance via a familiar jungle, which resounded through the air, signaling the entrance of a customer. He gave a quick glance towards the door, but was intrigued at the person he saw. It was Vice, but he was back already? There must have been quite a few good cards to sell if he came this quickly. Usually he came one or two days after he bought a set.

The most likely reasons had to be Planeswalkers, or so Rat thought. They were a new type of card, in a brand new set, and they were all selling like wildfire, on Ebay at least. He stood up to face Vice, as he would any customer, but was surprised to finds an unusual card in close proximity to his face.

"What the 'ell is this? It isn't on the list, and I think it zapped me. This your kind of a joke?" Vice wasn't mad, and his tone proved it, but Rat was still cautious. Vice was a valued customer, and to loose someone like that would be hard on business. He knew exactly what it was though, or at least what it looked like.

Gently, he took the card from Vince, and took a closer look at it. Yep, definitely what it looked like, although he didn't dare take it out of the case. "That, as far as I know, is a Vaccine card."

He stopped, handing the card out to Vince, who took it, before continuing. "Created by a character in Season Three named Shibumi. It was used so the protagonist's digimon could fight the D-Reaper safely. Why they printed a card for that, I have no clue, truth be told."

Rat paused after that, unsure if he should ask what he was thinking about. Vince would never create a fake, that rat was sure of. There was no need to, and it would call into question every single card sold to the shop. But, even with his extensive knowledge of cards, he had never heard of a unique card from the series ever being printed. What if it was not only real, but really real? As if, functioning real. The thought plagued his mind, and he wished to test it out.

Vince also noted the split decision playing on Rat's face, which followed the silence. It quickly prompted him to ask, "Well, is there anything else?"

"Only a Willy Wonka stunt. But," He paused, looking slightly unsure of himself, "If you want, we could do an experiment." Without another word, he ducked underneath the counter, scrabbling through the items within the top shelf. He was looking for something in specific, something that would make him look like a fool, to be sure.

At the same time, Vince had backed up, so he could watch what Rat was doing without bending down. Junk was being pushed around left, right, and center. At least, it was junk to him. Rat continued on, making his way from the top shelf, to the middle, and finally the bottom shelf. A little more digging, then he grabbed what looked like one of those digital pet things. The title on the product said Digimon D-Ark.

Was Rat really stupid enough to make him swipe the card in that?

Unfortunately for Vince, it seemed Rat was that simple minded. He ripped the plastic off, inserted the batteries, and put it on the counter. "There we go. It's usually upgrade cards that you swipe, but who knows, maybe that'll work?"

With an exasperated shrug, Vince took the card out of it's protective case, then picked up the D-Ark toy. Before swiping the card though, he looked this 'D-Ark'. It's general shape was something he wasn't quite used to, being more of a cell-phone guy. But at best, he would describe it as a shape similar to an O and a T as one. In the center was the screen, surrounded by a decorative red ring. At the top was, of course, a strap with a plastic snap-hook clamp. Crude, but effective enough.

He set the Vaccine card in the slot, but didn't swipe it. Instead, he asked, "Which way does the card face. With the front, or back side facing me?" Overall Vince was feeling fairly stupid at the moment for trying this. As long as no-one say this, other then Rat though, it didn't matter to much to him.

"Oh, with the 'D' facing you, I'd assume. Just like a regular upgrade card." With that said, Vince swiped the card. They both waited a few moments, and... Nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. "Well," Vince said sarcastically, "That was exciting."

Rat felt like agreeing, but didn't say anything. He had one more experiment bubbling away in his mind, and it was even more absurd then the previous. "Theres one more thing I'd like to try. Something connected to the net."

Vince had no clue what Rat was going to try, but he watched as Rat took a few steps to the till, and reversed the way his credit card unit was facing. No way. Was he an absolute idiot?

"Ya want me to swipe a card through a debit machine?" Vince snorted, "Thats even more retarded then the toy." But Rat was the expert, and the look he was giving showed he was half serious.

So Vince crossed the distance between himself and the card unit, with only a few steps. Without thought, he waited for it to ask him to swipe the card, as if he were paying for something, then swiped it. What happened next caught him by surprise.

The little green screen exploded with numerical code, and not just binary ones and zeros, either. Each number, from one to nine, descended in a completely random pattern. Only to disappear at the bottom of the screen. There was, as of yet, no apparent end to it.

Rat had seen the surprised look on Vince, and twisted the terminal around, so he could check it out as well. He gave off a similar look, although more reserved, and curios at the same time. Something else happened soon after. It started to print a receipt. Rat waited until it was finished printing before he ripped it off, then began to read. "Transaction complete, thank you for your purchase!"

He paused, crumpling up the receipt before saying, "I hope I actually get paid for that D-Arc, but it's yours now, I guess."

Vince gave him an annoyed look, before saying, "Your kidding me... Ya lil Asshole, ya were gunna make me buy that toy!"

"What? We used it to experiment with your unknown card. And now it's messed up my debit machine as well."

"They were both your ideas, so it's your fault." Vince retorted, before looking once more at the debit machine, "I wonder how much longer that'll keep going on for." It was a valid question, and one that Rat didn't answer.

They both kept quiet, while it went on, and on, and on. Vince was just watching, while it continued. But Rat, after a few minutes, had jumped behind his counter again, and popped up once more with a camcorder in hand. It was an older one, since there was a place to insert and remove tapes on the side.

However, Rat gave off something extremely similar to an 'Awwwww' sound. The batteries were almost dead. Rat was sure he had changed them only a few days though.

So, with no more interruptions, they waited once more. Watching as the numbers kept coming, and going, with no apparent pattern. Rat's recorder soon died, leaving him with only a minute or two worth of the oddity on the tape.

Time continued to pass, and still there was no change. Vince, bored of the spectacle, left the counter, and began milling through the digimon cards. While doing so, he held up the Vaccine card which was back in it's protective casing. He didn't know what to do with it. Maybe he could just sell it to Rat, and be done with it. The collectors part of him wouldn't allow it though. What if it was a one of a kind card? And it had to be legit, since he had bought it from Rat, who only bought from reliable sources.

His thoughts were interrupted, when Rat called to him. "Hey, you mind if I disconnect it now? Not that I mind letting my debit machine go crazy. I just want it to be working properly."

"Sure thing, do what ya want." But what was he going to do with it? It got him a free toy, that much he knew. Perhaps, if he used it in other places, he could get free stuff? That notion was soon purged from his mind. Things would get to obvious. That, and it took far to long for Rat's machine to finally spit out the receipt. Other businesses wouldn't wait that long, specially if their machine went on the fritz.

"Umm, Vice," Rat called once more, although this time sounding confused. "You might want to see this."

Vince, knowing that something wasn't right, spun around on the spot. Slipping his Vaccine card inside a jacket pocket while doing so. A quick jog was all it took to bring him back to the counter. From what he could tell, everything was the same, from the placement of everything, to the crazy debit machine. "What?" He asked.

Rat simply pointed to the back of the debit machine, and spoke, "I disconnected it from the net, and took out the power chord, that's what! It's still on, that should be impossible." It was true, the cords had been pulled. There was nothing connecting the machine to power, or the net. "This just keeps getting weirder, and weirder."

"I'm with ya there, and I'm get'n out of here before things get worse. Time to search the net." Vince grabbed the toy from the counter, then made his way through the aisles, towards the door. Rat was yelling behind him.

"What the hell! You're going to abandon me after all the help I!-" Vince couldn't hear the rest as the door closed behind him, and he was greatful. He just hoped he wasn't banned from the store. Perhaps the next time he came he could replace the stupid machine. It only cost a few thousand probably...

* * *

Sam wasn't where he should have been, but at the moment he didn't care to much about it. After the incident in the park, he knew there was a need to remove himself from not only the scene, but the district as well. With the amount of shots that had been fired, there was no chance that it went by unnoticed. Someone was sure to call it in. 

That's why he was now in Vince's neighborhood. It had been a while since the two spent a night together, doing nothing but messing around. Supper, maybe a couple of beers, those hockey cards even, since Vince was the cards expert. First he had to call his superiors though. The question was, which one?

One hand stayed on the wheel, keeping the vehicle on course, while the other dove to his waist, towards the cellphone strapped in it's place. With deft movements the phone was soon released from it's case, and flipped open at the main menu. With each press of a button, he delved deeper within the intricate menu system. A beep was emitted each and every press of the buttons.

Soon he was within the hidden contacts menu. Unlike the regular contact list, which held co-workers, and partners like Vince, this one needed a specific sequence to unlock. On it were other, more important people to him. His bosses, and superiors. On the screen only a set amount of '??????????...' showed, each with a unique number underneath.

His boss' numbers. The names were never known to him, except one. And right now, he felt like being a pain in the ass to the man. He scrolled to the number second from the bottom, and hit the call button. Only three rings passed before someone with a smooth, all business tone answered. "Hello?"

"Yeah Geo, it's Sam."

_At the beginning, everything was quiet. The two gangs, each around ten to fifteen men strong, stared at one another. No-one was moving at all. So he didn't bring attention to himself, Sam had moved very slowly. Setting aside the box of cards on the passenger seat, before reaching to his side, underneath the coat he wore. His hand firmly gripped on the Glock 19 strapped within it's leather holster._

_Outside, in the park, one man from each gang had broken off, and were now walking towards each other. His suspicion about the college kids was confirmed to. As they met in between the two gangs, Sam could see the Nevada Wolf Pack insignia on the man's back. Once they met, it began with simple talk._

_Sam couldn't hear what they were talking about, and he didn't care. With conditioned, slow movements, he unclipped the leather strap that held his gun in place. If they spotted him, the would fire. If he drove off, they would fire as well. He'd rather fire back in either case. He slowly reached out towards the center glove compartment. That's when he first heard the men outside._

_The situation had deteriorated between the two men. Now they were yelling at one another, each stating complaints and wrongs about the other. But it wouldn't last for long. A gunshot tore through the argument. _

_Another man from the Slums Gang silence the park with a single shot. In the moments that followed, it was serene. No noise, just simple silence. Each man there, no matter the group, was looking around. Some focussed on the smoking gun held by a white guy. Other were watching the leader of the Wolf Pack._

_The man himself looked shocked. His hands were trembling as he dropped the gun in them, and were raised to his chest. Nobody could see the wounds, covered by the jacket he wore. But the blood flowing from the entry, and exit points, staining his jacket was obvious. It was spreading fast._

_Those few moments, paused in time, as they all watched the man slowly die, were finished as a hail of gunfire tore through the scene. Men were scrambling everywhere. Firing their guns, dropping like stones, diving behind cover. _

_That's the one advantage the Slums Gang had, Sam noted. They were closer to the decrepit wooden play set, and were using it wisely. The Wolf Pack only had a few gnarled trees, and they were dead._

_Sam opened the glove compartment slowly, and removed what he needed. A simple looking, but long, black cylinder. He screwed it onto the end of his pistol, then waited. Shots were still being fired, but less frequently now. _

_The ground was littered with dying men, and corpses. The brown grass was now painted red, in almost a comical way. Showcasing where injured men had crawled, or dragged themselves, before stopping. Dead, exhausted, or behind cover, Sam couldn't tell easily._

_He gave the battle ground one last sweeping glance. Each gang had been decimated, but it had been the Wolf Pack that had suffered the most. There was only one person remaining, laying on the ground beside the jammed merry-go-round. There was no way of telling whether or not he was injured. He was using the cover well, using the gap at ground level to fire at his opponents._

_As for the slums Gang, they were five men strong. All of them were holding back at the play set, planning something. Sam chose that time to make a move. He gripped the door handle of his car, and cautiously, began to pull it out. It was slow, and it was barreling down on his senses. This one thing would make, or break, his plan. With a metallic pop, the door opened._

_Nothing. No bullets came flying his way. He released the breath he never even knew he held. Now he opened the door just as slowly, keeping an ever present eye on the gunfight._

"No, they didn't look like our guys-" Sam shook his head. Geo usually cut him off, to ask ludicrous questions. "What did I do? You know damn well what I did! It's what I always do."

_Sam was crouching behind his car, beside the front left wheel. The driver's door was left slightly ajar. There was no reason to take the chance of closing it, so he hadn't. At the moment, he was now watching the havok between the remains of the two gangs. It seemed there were four men left alive behind the play set, because only four made a mad dash towards the merry-go-round._

_The lone Pack survivor, seeing the rush of feet coming at him through the gap, knew it was over. he had sat up, madly pulling the trigger on his semi-automatic. It was a valiant effort which brought two men down. That valiant effort died in vain, however, with an almost artistic spray of red mist._

_The bullet had entered at an angle, tearing through his adams apple, then exiting through the side of his neck. It probably hit the jugular, considering the amount of blood that followed. With a faint gurgle, which produced a few bubbles within his torn throat, the last member of the Wolf Pack slumped onto the ground, defeated._

_A loud, pain filled moan caught Sam's attention, as well as the other men. It seemed that one of the two Slum members, which had fallen in that last stand, was still alive. The two uninjured men had rushed over to their fallen comrade, which gave Sam the perfect opportunity._

_Pistol held in both hands, he crouched high enough so that he could steady himself on the hood of his car. He took sight down the barrel facing towards one of the men's backs. It wasn't a favored way to kill a man, shooting him in the back, but when opportunity knocks..._

_He pulled the trigger twice, aimed at the other man, then repeated the process. Two corpses slumped over top of their injured ally, drenching him in blood._

"Okay, bye." He hung up the phone, slightly surprised by Geo's response. Usually after something like this, he would get the rest of the day off with any other of his superiors. However, Geo wasn't like them. If you informed him of something, giving him more work, he'd give you more work. It seemed that Geo's superiors, who were also Sam's, were pressuring Geo to treat people equally, or something.

Sam smirked. A few dead people, and he could kick back with Vince for the rest of the day. It would never be considered completely off, though. Seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day. That was his regular work schedule, being on call.

Another honk of his horn tore through the neighborhood's silence. He had parked where he usually did, right in front of Vince's apartment, but he never gained a single response. Maybe Vince was out on the town?

He felt like pulling out, and driving around some more. To shake off the after effects of the gunfight, but he spotted Vince turn around the corner two blocks away. Although Vince was probably still in a bad mood, Sam felt like bugging the little Bastard.

He grabbed the box of hockey cards from the passenger seat, and got out of the car. With a click of his key chain, the car was locked, so he called out. "Hey, Skeleton, what's going on?"

Surprisingly, he got a cheery call back. "Keeping myself in shape, unlike yourself, ya Fat Tub 'O Lard." Vince sprinted the rest of the distance towards the apartments, which didn't take long.


	4. Chapter 4

**Well, I'm back with the next chapter. I'm also sorry for the delay. With Christmas, new years, and many video games to try out, I set my editing on the back burner. But now, I've got chapter four up. Or at least half of chapter four up. It would have been 8000-9000 words if I didn't split it I assume...**

** Anyway, i feel that my greatest downfall as a writer is conversations. To me they feel forced, and well, not very good. I wish to improve, but I need some constructive criticism! So leave a review with your thoughts. **

* * *

That night, unknown to all, events were happening. Major events, the likes of which would be entered within the history books. Whether praised, or despised, that was yet to be seen. For across America, money was disappearing. First one account, drained of one-thousand dollars, then another. No matter the bank, the person, or the type of account, whatever it was that had removed the money, it was doing so in a random fashion. The money it did collect simply vanished afterwards. 

Elsewhere, in a small card shop, The Dragon's Lair, another event was transpiring. Inside, things were as they should have been, almost. Nothing was damaged, the cards were in place inside their cases, and the doors and windows were as they should have been, locked and unscathed. The only thing that was missing, the debit machine, was removed by Rat himself. A sign was on the counter to state that it was out of order. In the back, however, things were not as they should have been.

Once beyond the blanket which had covered the door to the back, anyone could have seen as such. The back room was nearly as spacious as the main area. However, it did not give off the same warm, and welcoming feel. The room was set up as a warehouse, with row upon ow of shelves, with bland cardboard boxes. Stacked upon the shelves, and one another, all in a gambit to save space for more product.

Along the wall, close to the doorway on a box, was the debit machine. unplugged from both the internet, and it's power source, yet somehow still on. Beeping away with a fast, complex, and uniquely sequenced rythem. However, something had changed from earlier that day. The numbers had stopped, only showing two numeral lines at the top. At the bottom of the screen, there was one last line. The entire screen read:

0x0575050960487560404006

2x5670584560480565303074

Thank you! Please come again.

Minutes passed away in the faint, greenish light which the machine gave off. The sequence, by then, had looped twice, and was about to begin a third time. It never got the chance. A monotone, unchanging noise ripped through the room. Only complimented by the whirring parts within the machine itself, as it began to print off a receipt.

Once the debit machine had finished printing a receipt, the green light it was emanating began to change. Becoming more intense, brighter, in a neon way. Soon the entire back room was lit up, ensorcelled within a green overcast. An overcast which had evolved into a blinding mixture of all colors, the dominant ones still being the same neon green, and other shades of the same making.

Complete darkness followed, as the power to the debit machine cut out. But there was something new. Faint breathing could be heard, if one could even call such small, and subtle inhales and exhales, breathing. Ever so slowly, the breathing gained in strength, became deeper, more powerful.

The creature opened it's eyes. Two orbs of gray, parrallel to one another, near the floor. Flickering side to side, back and forth, and everywhere else, guaging it's surroundings. Soon, they slowly rose from the ground as it stood, and faced the doorway.

A growl emanated from the creature, as those orbs focussed on the rodent depicted at the door. It needed out, to follow the call of the source that brought it here. But there was a guardian in it's way. Some sort of beast, baring it's fangs. The creature didn't know what it was, or what kind of powers it had, but the guardian had to die. One moment the orbs were there, the next they weren't, replaced with solid dark, and the sound of tearing cloth.

A shadow was crouching on the counter now, facing the windows. Where once there was a blanket, only tattered remains were left. Pathetic was the only word the creature could think of, for such a weak opponent. But it couldn't dwell to long here. An urge deep within spoke to go, to find what was calling out, although why it should, it didn't know. With but a thought, it's form, barely visible to begin with, was no more.

* * *

Vincent groaned as he slowly rolled over in his bed. There was no way in hell it was time to wake up, but he swore his alarm clock was going off. It was playing annoying, and repetitive, techno. He had never heard the station play techno before, but that wasn't his problem. With a swat, his hand came down on the snooze button. Nothing happened. He must have missed it, or so he thought. His fingers searched for the button, and made sure he pressed it down once more. Still nothing. 

With an angry grunt, Vincent sat up in bed. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, before looking at the clock. It was cycling through numbers to fast to read. All traces of sleep disappeared from surprise alone. 'What the hell?' His clock had gone crazy, and from the blinking lights, so did his cellphone. None of them were making a sound though. His gaze swept around the room, and noted faint light coming from the kitchen. With a disgruntled sigh, he removed the blankets further. Being the only person in the apartment, the only things donned upon him, were his boxers, and his messy hair. After he stretched, popping the many joints in his back, he made his way into the kitchen.

Inside the kitchen area, he could tell partially what his problems were. On the table, still in the bag, was that damned D-Arc. Glowing fairly brightly, and giving off the annoying tune. With but a thought, the bag was ripped off of it, allowing the screen to shine unencumbered. It lit up his kitchen, enough that he could read. He had the urge to throw it against a wall, but thought better. It would do no good to wake up the neighbors. Instead, he turned it over in his hands, intent on removing the batteries. That plan, as well, was stopped, but in a different way. There was no cover to remove. It was nothing but smooth plastic along the back of the toy. That was impossible, he had seen Rat remove the back of this thing only yesterday!

That just made the urge to throw it much greater, but he didn't. Maybe he could just shut it off? He flipped it over in his hands once more, ignoring the bright light as best he could. His eyes kept blinking, unused to such a bright light, as he searched. Again he failed. He never found an off button, but there were others that were not there before, lining both sides of the circle.

Frustrated, annoyed, and angry, he sat down at the table. The toy was thrown harshly onto the tabletop as well. It continued it's operations unphased. It wasn't loud enough to annoy the neighbors, yet. At least he knew what the problem was. Now he needed a way to fix it. The only logical solution to him, would have been that Vaccine card. It buggered up machines fairly well, perhaps it could fix them also? Absentmindedly his hand reached out for the box he put the card in, and dug around for the Vaccine card. Maybe if he was lucky the card really would fix it.

A quick swipe later, and he got a reaction right away. Two things happened. First of all, the volume increased. Still not enough to wake the neighbors, but close. Second, the screen changed. Where once there was a bright, blank screen, it was now replaced with something else. A circular compass, with an arrow, squeezed inside the small screen. The arrow was pointing at him. "What the hell?" He never had the chance to contemplate further on the device's problem.

Something round, and sharp, pressed up against the back of his neck. He froze. He could tell it wasn't a knife, but the way it was held made it no less deadly. A quick scan of his memories yielded that not one person he knew used anything other than a gun, or knife to kill.

"Are you the one calling to me." The voice was feminine, but neutral, lacking any emotion at all. To Vincent, it was the voice of a trained killer. And calling? What the hell did she mean by that? He would have asked, but given his position, he just said what needed to be said.

"I have no clue what'cha mean by calling. Could be this thing," His left hand, the one holding the beeping D-Arc, twitched, "But other'n that, nada." The only reply he gained was silence, complimented by the annoying tune coming from his device. The person behind him, after some time, put pressure on the back of his neck. He felt the object pierce his skin. A stinging sensation traveled the short distance up his spine, and to his mind. At that moment, the D-Arc once again decided to rise in volume. 'If I'm not killed,' He thought, 'My neighbors'll kill me.'

"Hand me the device, Human." As she said this, the pressure on the back of his neck was relieved, if only slightly.

Vince didn't have a clue what she meant by saying 'Human'. To be talking, she had to be human as well. He complied, however, not wanted to be killed. Slowly his left hand reached behind him, past his head. Pressure set upon the device soon stopped it, as he froze. For wanting it so badly, she sure took her sweet time taking it. She was caressing it, and pushing buttons. Handling it gently, without taking it out of his hand. Treating it as if it were a revered object.

Before he could ask questions, her hand enveloped the digivice, and his own with it. The device was silenced, but he didn't notice. Something was wrong, and that something was her. He felt only three fingers wrapped around his hand, and the digivice. Each of which were covered in fur, and ended with a half inch claw. The object that pierced his neck, which he now assumed was a claw, was removed.

If he was going to escape with his life, now would be his chance. He took it without thought. To Vince, it felt as if everything slowed down, as he rolled out of the chair, to the right. The action caught her off guard, it seemed. Her hand never clamped down on his own, to prevent the move. That allowed him to come out of his roll inside the living room. A few short steps away, on the bedside table, was his gun. If he could get to that, he'd be home free.

Vince was blocked from his goal immediately. One moment nothing was there. The next, he felt claws tickling his adams apple. He froze once more. This time, the claws did not penetrate his skin. Looking straight ahead, glowing gray eyes could be seen at arms length. They reminded him of cats eyes, but they were the wrong shape, and far more intense then anything he had seen before.

Even they couldn't hold his attention for long though. He could see the faintest outline of her body in the dark. Humanoid in shape, to be sure, but not human. Fear was the first thing that came to him.

"You can't kill me, so don't try." She said in her neutral, and to the point tone, "Sit down at the table." What else could he do, but heed her order? By now, he knew the only chance of survival was to obey. Forcing control over his fear filled mind, Vince took a single step backwards. The claws didn't follow. Emboldened by the turn of events, he continued with firmer, more disciplined steps. He passed the wall that separated the kitchen and living room. To his left was the table, and the chair from which he had rolled not even a minute ago. He sat down.

"Now, look at your digivice," He did exactly what she said, "Has it not changed?" She was right. The device's screen had changed once again. There was no arrow, or compass. Just a blank, desktop screen with a flashing icon on the right. Underneath it read 'New!' He clicked the button parallel to the icon, which brought him to another screen.

This one contained a picture of a pale yellow creature, with fox-like features. It was standing straight, both feet twelve inches apart from one another. With it's arms held out a foot from each side, as well. The gauntlets it wore were the first things to catch his attention. Whether they were the only articles of clothing, or their contrasting colors, he couldn't tell. Either way, they drew his attention closer to the creature's hands. Each had three claws, and were covered in fur.

Along the left edge of the screen, a single word was spelled vertically: Renamon.

Renamon? As in the card? Due to lack of sleep, and the receding amounts of adrenaline in his system, he found the entire situation extremely doubtful. Perhaps he had a few to many sleeping pills, and this was some sort of reaction? Only one way to find out. "Ello? Ya still here?"

Immediately, the same neutral, and emotionless voice came from right behind him. "Yes."

Still here, standing right behind him. Only adding to the assassin image already conjured within his mind. At least he wasn't high, or delusional, at least. "First," He asked, "What's your name? Second, how the hell do ya appear from nowhere."

"The digivice states my name quite clearly. And for my technique, it is a," She paused, unable to continue. What would be the best choice of words? It was something that came natural to her kind in the digital world. This ability also carried over to the real world also, however unlikely it seemed. "Phase in reality? I'm not quite sure how it works here."

"Your actual name, I mean. And could ya not phase behind me? Makes it easier on the nerves." At his words, a faint outline materialized in his peripheral vision, to his right. Still behind him, just not directly, and enough to jump his nerves up even more. At least he didn't jump, or show any kind of reaction, he hoped.

"As you wish, Tamer, I will not phase directly behind you anymore" she began, opting to walk beside him, instead of keeping behind him. "But I fail to understand your other request. Renamon is the name of myself, as is for my species. It's the same for every Renamon."

Tamer? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Perhaps it was her word for human. But then, she had used human earlier, hadn't she? And being called Renamon, simply because it was her species? An oddity, that was for sure, and one he was tempted to ask about. "So all Renamon'r named Renamon?"

"That is correct, Tamer, but not entirely so," Her voice, still in it's neutral tone, held the air of someone with superior knowledge. "There are ways to differentiate one Renamon from another. There is the Elder, the leader of the tribe, or settlement. One may also differentiate by adding a vocation at the beginning of the specific Renamon's name. I myself, am known as a Huntress Renamon. Other specifications also exist."

Although peeved at what he felt was a chastise towards his ignorance, he let it slide. She had supplied him with the information he asked for. She also used 'Tamer' again. "Why do ya keep call'n me Tamer?"

"It is a term derived from legends within my world. Tamer was used to describe the human within the partnership of human and digimon." She informed, before adding lightly, "Without that infernal device calling to me, and clouding my mind, I find myself in mild disbelief truth be told. I weighed little opinion in the Tamers of legend, until now."

With every answer he gained, a new question would be revealed for him to ask. There had been legends about human and digimon? That was impossible. If they were true, then the digital world would be common knowledge, and every person would likely have a digimon. On the other hand, digimon were well known, but only as a cartoon, toys, and cards.

"Do ya know the names-" He was unable to finish, due to a very unique sound which came from Renamon herself. a growling centered within her body. He knew the sound as an obvious sign of hunger, but Renamon apparently didn't. Both hands explored her body, looking for something out of the ordinary. He found the actions quite funny for someone so serious. "Hungry are ya? Well, I don't have much, just some left-over Mac'n Cheese. It's something though."

"Hunger?" She asked clearly, but more so to herself than Vince. "Is that what it is? It feels, different. Not what I would have expected."

"Well," Vincent spoke, while he stood up, "Hunger is hunger, and ya need to eat something." As he spoke, he also turned on the lights. Temporarily blinding himself, while Renamon just watched him seemingly unphased.

Inside the refrigerator there wasn't much for food. It was mostly empty, with only a few lunch meats, cheese, and basic sauces like mustard, and ketchup. Some bread had survived as well, but what he was looking for, was beside it. A pot with the lid on, sealing the night old macaroni and cheese from outside air. He removed the pot from the fridge, and placed it on the counter. Next, he would have to get a plate.

Renamon hadn't moved, be she was watched him work his way around the kitchen. His movements weren't graceful, or determined, like a Renamon's. Instead to her they were clumsy, and random. Whatever got the job done. She didn't think any less of him for it. Grace and deliberation was not everything. The world from which she came was proof enough for that.

By now, Vincent was able to set the timer, and hit the start button. The microwaved reacted immediately, humming at the desired intensity. Doing everything it should have. Vincent also heard something land on the counter, to the left of him. A quick, reactionary glance revealed Renamon there. Crouching in a very menacing stance, with claws extended, and fangs slightly barred. To compliment that, was the feral growl that she was emitting.

Although unnerved from her appearance he still had to do something. The only something that came to his mind, was throwing himself on top of the microwave, and yelling. "Hey, whoa! Don't kill the microwave!" He waited a second. No strike came to impale him. He didn't hear the sound of metal being torn apart, either. With that in mind, he opened his eyes, and looked at her.

Her ears were back, streamlined against her skull in a threatening position. She was also glaring at him, or at least he thought it was at him. I could have been at the microwave he was still covering. Other then her fur, which was half standing on edge, she looked more at ease. Her arms were crossed, and braced against her knees, no longer in an offensive position.

Vincent was fairly sure she wouldn't attempt another attack. With that in mind, he removed himself from the position, and glanced at the timer. A minute, and twenty-seven seconds left. He focussed on the timer, but also watched Renamon in his peripheral vision. The time passed in silence. Until the timer reached it's limit, that is. Once the clock hit 0: 00, the microwave gave off a loud ding, which pierced right through the silence, and made Renamon's hair to stand on end in defiance. She didn't attack though.

It would take time, but eventually Renamon would get used to not only the microwave, but everything else in this world. At least, that's what Vincent hoped, as he opened the microwave's door, and removed the now hot macaroni and cheese. Only pausing to grab some utensils from a drawer, although he had a suspision that she wouldn't have a clue how to use them, before heading to the table.

He set the plate down at the table, only to turn around, facing the kitchen once more. Renamon was no longer on the counter, but wasn't moving either. Opting only to watch him with skepticism. "Come'n eat. Don't want to die of starvation, do ya?"

Renamon did as she was told, in her own way. With but a thought, the entire room, and everything in it, was enveloped within a shimmering black field. A dimensional field that was her birthright, and her refuge. She knelt down, winded from the dimensional transfer. Taking time to gain her breath, before she glanced over to her Tamer. She hadn't allowed him in, like everything else in the household. And just like the household, he was still, like a statue, but blurred out of proportion. All of his distinct features were mixed, and unrecognizable.

She walked past her dormant Tamer, towards the table. The chair she assumed she would be sitting in, was pushed underneath the table. An annoyance, considering she would have to remove herself from the field, to move it. Removing herself from the field, as well, would be taxing. But she had to do it sooner or later.

A though, once more, was all it took to remove herself from the dimensional void. Placing her back in the real world, with the force of a punch to her gut, and a burning lack of air in her lungs. She was used to it though, and barely showed any hint of the occurrence. Only taking in a few deep, and determined breaths of air, as she withdrew the chair.

For Vincent, she was there, in front of him one moment. Then instantly, she was behind him, again, after he had asked her not to do it. He didn't press the matter though. Going by the sound of wood scraping against linoleum, she was pulling out a chair to sit down. Perhaps she wasn't quite as uncivilized as she had first appeared, after all.

After a quick shrug of his shoulders, mostly to himself, he turned around. Renamon was already sitting at the table. Or to be more specific, crouching. As low as possible within the seat, without actually sitting. Yet another oddity, on the growing list, but like all the others he assumed it was due to her culture, or rituals. Unknown to him, it was simply to keep from sitting on, and cramping up, her tail.

He sat down, and immediately felt a relaxed tingling run throughout his system. The kind usually given off when a body, in need of rest, finds itself no longer supporting it's own weight. Giving into the sensations, he found his vision glazed over, and eyelids half closed, as he focussed on Renamon.

With her Tamer watching, Renamon found herself almost forced to eat, out of politeness. Not that she was going to pass, mind you. The scent of what her Tamer had called 'leftovers' didn't smell to bad at all, though it was mildly overpowering. The concept of eating wasn't foreign to her, either. You didn't need to eat, to survive in the digital world. Some still chose to do so, whether for self pleasure, or tradition, the reasons varied. Her Tamer had said if you didn't eat here, however, you died. She assumed such a death, based on her own feelings currently, would be excruciating.

Once her muzzle was mere inches from the food, she followed up with one last intentional, and long, inhale of the leftover scent. The strange grumbling was brought back. With more force behind it's strange, but unnaturally clear plea. She had the most voracious urge to eat the entire thing, manners be gone. Her self control held.

Deftly, she withdrew the spoon from the silverware pile beside her plate, in between two claws. It was thinner then the wooden spoons at home, but almost the same wieght. She threw it lightly into the air, only to catch it in between all three claws. It felt different, but she made it work. Testing it by scooping a small amount, and bringing the food to her open maw.

At first she couldn't believe it. This human food was good! Not just good, but great! No longer able to hold back her hunger, her rate of eating increased ten-fold. Fairly soon, she found her meal to be finished. The empty feeling inside of her was mostly gone too, but she found herself wishing for more. "Would there be anymore of these leftovers, Tamer?"

All the sleep and drowzyness had disappeared from his eyes as he watched. She just wolfed down all the food, and almost the plate, at an incredible speed. He'd never seen someone eat that fast, while also keeping their manners, somewhat. "That was the last of it. How ya feeling?"

Taking his mild interest to account, she gave a detailed answer. "I feel content. However, I still feel a hint of hunger mixed with it. Overall, I feel far better then before I had those leftovers." Hunger was still an odd, new, and unsavory sensation to her. Eating, on the other hand, wasn't.

Once, sometimes twice every cycle, her village would have had a feast. She had never felt hunger before eating, or content after, but it was tradition. One that had always confused her, until now. Perhaps this is why they had it? In case one of them made it to the real world. Sparingly, she wondered what other traditions in her world tied into the Tamer Legend.

Vincent stood up from the table, and said, "That'll have to last 'till morn'n. Ya tired?" It was, after all, the early hours of the morning.

She wondered why her Tamer asked such a thing. Digimon could go on for three weeks at least without sleep. Even up to five weeks, if required. They also didn't sleep unless assured safety, which was rare, even in a village like hers. "Tired? I assume your asking if I need sleep. No, I'm not tired."

With the excitement now dead, he felt just how tired he really was. "Well," He said while yawning, "Make yourself at home then. I'm going to check a few things on the net." Which he promptly turned to do.

The computer was a mess, as always. Unharmed from the scuffle, although he was worried. Digimon came from the net, didn't they? Maybe that was how she entered this world. If so, what if whatever brought her here, was still running? He sat down at the computer station, and promptly hit the power button. If his thoughts were right, then the worst case scenario would be transportation to the digital world.

The computer whirled into life, as the screen turned on by itself. Slowly the monotone black disappeared, only to be replaced with white lettering, and the OS code that appeared as always. No portal, or abnormality, was shown at all. Soon he found himself staring at his desktop, with no changes. He waited only for his start-up programs to fully load, before bringing up a firefox browser.

Renamon had followed him into the living room. She found no interest in the computer at all though. Instead, she jumped onto the bed. Drenched in her Tamers scent, she felt compelled to wait at least near it. She decided to humor that urge, and jumped right on the bed. Crouching, and watching the human at work, typing madly at the keyboard.

The night passed on in silence. Vincent was hard at work, searching every trace of the net for information. Whether it was general information on species, attacks, or the world itself, it didn't matter. Most of it was simple speculation anyway. However, he did find a few concrete pieces of information, based on Digimon Tamers. Written either by fans, or the actual creators, he couldn't say.

He disregarded all sites with adult only material, and adult warnings. He didn't really care to see any of that stuff. However, there were a few instances where it was unmarked, and he stumbled upon pictures by accident. His google image search when he began, hours ago was brought to mind.

When he had a fairly good reasoning of her species, and the digital world, he decided to call it quits. Although the information gleaned was mostly theoretical, he knew some of it was true. Perhaps he could attempt to prove was was right, and wrong, tomorrow? He yawned, loud and long, unable to finish the train of thought. No longer absorbed in his computer, his body felt like dead wieght.

He swiveled in his chair, intent on speaking to Renamon. To ask her to get off his bed, to be more specific. However, he was unable to do so. Renamon was curled up on top of his bed, her only movement being the faint rise and fall of her chest. She was asleep. Not tired, eh?

He stood up, and walked up to the bed. She was probably cold, since she was curled up. Doing what he felt was right, he covered her up with a blanket. The only problem was, it brought up an uncomfortable thought. Where was he going to sleep?


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, or to be more specific, later in the morning, Vincent awoke once more, releasing a very loud yawn. As soon as he did though, he felt something wasn't right. He was on the ground. Quickly, he sat up, looking towards his bed. Renamon was still there, sleeping soundly. That's when the memories of last night hit him. He grinned slightly. Not tired eh? Well, he'd let her be for a while.

Slowly, he got up, stretching his muscles, allowing his joints and ligaments to pop. After, he folded the spare blankets, and shoved them under the bed once more, along with the pillows. The first thing he needed to do was shower, shave, and other various bathroom activities. With one last yawn, he left Renamon on the bed, but not before he draped one of the loose blankets across her form.

For Rat, it was just another average day. He woke up at eight, to get ready, had a quick shower, mostly to wake up, then went into the kitchen. Once there he grabbed some milk from the fridge, a bowl from one of the cupboards, and cereal from one of the lower cabinets. A nice, and quick breakfast was all he ever had. Once it was prepared, he took the bowl of cereal into the living room, where he prompty set it down on a TV tray. After he turned on his 32 inch TV, he changed it to the news.

National sports was on, which he gave no notice to. Moving the tray so it was right in front of him, he dug into his cereal. As he ate, he thought about what needed to be done. Of course, he would have to somehow fix the debit machine. He could ill afford another one, paying double rent. And although he would have liked to do so, he didn't ask Vice to fix it. It was the entire reason he gave the nickname Vice to the guy. His reputation had followed him into the store soon after he started buying cards from him.

His thoughts were interrupted, however, by a breaking news report. He paused eating as well, opting to swollow his last mouthful, and listen. "This just in," The reporter quichly stated, "Reports across America are saying the over five thousand accounts have been stolen from, and the numbers are still rising. At the moment, there have been no connections made between banks, or accounts, signifying this is an entirely random hiest. As well, only 1, 000 dollars has been stolen from each and every account. Police are trying to locate the man responcible, but no traces have been found as of yet. Now, back to sports."

Over five-thousand accounts? One-thousand dollars each? That was five million and counting. As well, accounts were being hit randomly. A virus? He hoped not. If so, then one could concider that money gone. Either way, he needed to go to the bank, and check his own account.

Rat quickly finished his cereal, got up, and placed his bowl by the sink. After, he grabbed his coat, and left his apartment. The bank was only a fifteen minutes walk from his home, and somewhat along the way to work, so he wouldn't be opening up late... He hoped.

At the bank, he couldn't believe the line up at each entrance. He couldn't even fathom what it was like inside. Both lines were about the same size, and travelling at a snail's pace, so he just went to the closest one, and waited. It took a whole twenty minutes before he got to the ATM. He inserted his card as asked, and covered the pinpad with his hand, before entering his number. Once done, he clicked the screen, where it asked for whether he wished for a reciept or not. No need for one now, since he never had one before. Next he pressed the Inquiery button on the screen, soon followed by Checking. The screen read:

Please wait while transaction is in progress.

Moments later, his jaw dropped. In his account, was... Was... He quickly hit the Transaction Complete button. The ATM spit out his card, he grabbed it, and left the bank in quite a hurry. How the hell was this possible? As he searched his mind for a possible answer, he deftly remembered what happened yesterday. The debit machine! That had to be the reason why. There was nothing else to explain it. He flicked his wrist up, so that the jacket sleeve fell down his arm slightly. His watch read ten twenty-four. He was almost a half an hour late. He began jogging down the street, in an attempt to get to his store faster.

Soon he found himself on the steps, in front of the locked and caged door leading into his store. He pulled out a set of keys from his jacket, and picked one out, before inserting it within a lock at the center of the interlaced metal. After, he did the same thing for the lock on top, and the lock near the ground. Once all three were unlocked, the metal split. He pushed each into compartments built into the doorframe, where they collapsed upon themselves, before he closed the compartments, and locked them. Next, he unlocked the door itself with a seperate key. It opened for him, only to reveal something horrible.

The doorway to the back was uncovered, with a few shredded peices of his blanket still hanging onto the frame... Nothing else was touched from what he could see, but he rushed to the counter, and deftly jumped over it, only to land amoung the shredded remains of his blanket. He knew there was no way to repair it, in such a state. But he couldn't help but nurture the idea. It's what had gotten him his nickname, which eventually lead to his name.

However, he couldn't stand there forever. Whoever had done that had gotten into the backroom. For what reason, he didn't know since all he had was cards and anime, all of which were left untouched in the front. Even the registers, and safe were untouched... Once in the back, he couldn't tell whether anything was different. Just lots of brown boxes, all of which were labelled, on shelves, and the crazy debit machine leaning against the wall. It wasn't lit up though, and there was a reciept in it. He made his way over to it.

It was dead, like it should have been, concidering it was unplugged. But the reciept sticking out of it was a mystery. One which he could easily solve just by looking at it... Or so he thought. It showed a picture of a renamon, for what purpose he didn't know... Just that it showed a picture. Of course, he knew the cause. That Vaccine card of Vice's. The thought that it bio-emerged, like in the anime, penetrated his mind. But if it did, would there not be mist? And perhaps the creature would still be here as well.

Then one other thought occurred to him. Vice had to know what was going on. He was responsible for this, after all, but Vice was involved. He quickly nabbed a few sheets of paper from his printer in the back, and ran up front. There, he opened a drawer, only to snag a permanent black marker, and tape. On the paper he wrote:

Sorry, but we are closed today.

If Vice (AKA Vincent Vico) is reading this, or one of his friends, please knock on the door. Important!

It wasn't professional, and could end up in disaster for him. But then again, things were wierd enough already. He taped the message securely on the main doors before closing, and locking them. Now all he could do was sit and wait. With a shrug, he turned on the small TV behind the counter, and the DVD player, and began to watch some more Black Lagoon.

Sam, as always, was driving around. It wasn't that he hated his job, but patrolling wasn't to much fun. It was also killer for the gas bill, whether his boss' paid for it or not. Today, however, he had something else to do other then his new slum district to patrol. He had taken the box of cards with him, all of which were in sleeves, or card protectors, as Vince called them. To him, they were just peices of plastic to protect his investment.

Either way, it was just about luch, or at least that's what the digital clock in his car said. It was twenty minutes ahead, but he was hungry anyway. Taking a left, he turned down a residential street. A few blocks straight, and he'd be on his way to the one-ways that connected the entire city.

Ten minutes driving, and what felt like every single red light on the way later, he found himself parked in front of The Dragon's Lair. However, something was different. There was a piece of paper taped to it. Grumbling, he got out of the car, carrying his box of cards with him under one arm. Odds were that the shop was closed, or being renovated, or something. But he'd check anyway.

Once close enough to make out the horrible printing, he rapped the door right away. He didn't know the meaning of this, be he had heard 'Rat' call Vince by the name Vice once. So he was fairly sure he was entitled to knock under the restrictions. Soon the door opened with Rat standing there with a confused look.

"Can I help you?" Was all he asked, while looking at Sam.

"Your look'n for Vince, right? I want to know why." With the door open, he was able to see inside the store better. Nothing seemed out of place, except a missing debit machine, and tattered remains of that awful blanket depicting a rat.

"Yeah, I need to talk to him about a few things... Your the guy who came in with him yesterday, right?"

"Sam's the name." After saying that, his free hand dived inside his coat, only to wrap around the grip of his gun, before pulling it out, and pointing it at Rat. "No hard feelin's, but I'm not taking chances. I'll call Vince here, and you can talk to him with me here." He took a step forward, into the store, and Rat took a step back. One more, and he could safely allow the door to swing closed behind him.

Once inside, he nodded over to the counter, where the chair was. Rat, hands held above his head, got the idea and made his way over. Classic kidnapping and robbery scenario he assumed. Tie the victim to the only chair, then kill him later. Sam followed, and at the counter he set the cards down. With a free hand, he pulled his phone from the clip set at his waist. Once done, he simply slid the gun back in his holster, grinning. "Shoulda seen yourself, Rat... Or should I say Mouse? Terrified out of your mind, I'd say." By then, he had dialed the number, and hit the call button.

"Right old Bugger you are. No wonder your friends with Vice." Was all Rat had to say, as he sat in the chair.

There was only a few rings, before what sounded like utter chaos could be heard on the other side. He could tell the phone had been dropped on the floor, and clearly made out 'No, don't kill...' which made him alert, before Vince picked the phone off of the ground.

"Hello?" He sounded relieved, but Sam was still cautious.

"Hey, Vince. What's going on over there?"

"Ummm, that would be kind of hard to explain at the moment... Anyway, I'm fine. Why're ya calling?" That was good to know, although he still had his doubts.

"Rat needs to talk to you about something. Says it's important."

"Well, why not put him on the phone?" Sam shrugged, and offered Rat the phone.

However, Rat just shook his head, no. "It'd be much easier to explain in person."

"He say's it'd be easier in person. Want me to give you a ride?"

"Naa, I'll walk. Besides, it's most likely about his debit machine. Anyway, see ya later Sam." He heard the sound of the phone hanging up on their end, and quickly turned his own phone off.

"Said he'll be walking, so it'll take a while. It also sounded like he had company, I think. So, you up for buying some cards while we wait?" At that, he slid the box of hockey cards over to Rat, who pounced upon then. Sifting through them much faster then he could, and with alot more dexterity. Sorting them into two piles.

In a matter of minutes, he was finished. Most of the cards in plastic protectors, and a few in regular sleeves were in one pile. While the rest were in a much bigger pile. "I'd like to buy everything. How does three and a half thousand sound?" Sam couldn't believe his ears. Three and a half grand! He was either crazy, or cards were a better investment then he thought.

It had been quite an interesting morning for Vince, starting once he got out of the bathroom. Apparently the shower must have woken up Renamon, because she was crouching on her chair, just like last night. She was looking straight at him, in that cold, detached stare of hers. The stare he didn't mind. It was his complete lack of clothing, with only a towel to cover him up, that bothered him. He knew he was blushing, although he made his way as normally as he could through the kitchen, and into the living room.

Once there, he made his way towards his night stand, only to open it up, and skim through the meager selection of clothing within it. As he chose a suitable pair of pants, shirt, and boxers, he felt the slight disturbance of Renamon landing beside him.

"Somethings wrong, your changing color." Having his embarrasment blantantly pointed out to him only made it worse, as he took the clothes he selected from the night stand, and stood up, with the intent of going straight to the bathroom once more. His way was blocked, however, by Renamon who was looking point blank at his reddenning face. "It's getting worse."

"Yes, I know it's getting worse, and your not help'n." He tried to sidestep, but found his way blocked once more. He hadn't even seen her move, showing that, considering her speed, he had no chance of getting back to the bathroom without her knowing why. So, with a resigned sigh, "I'm blushing. It's because I'm embarrassed, 'kay?"

"What's there to be embarrassed about?" Renamon was curious for once, about the human. She had never heard of blushing, although embarrassment was known to her. It was an odd reaction, but it was a human one. She also wanted to know the cause of it. That, and she knew she was making it worse, which was always fun.

Vince felt that was going a bit far, but he gave an almost honest answer. "It's because I have nothing but a towel on. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go into the bathroom and change." Once again he took a sidestep, in an attempt to get past her, but she was there once again with another question.

"Why are you embarrassed from wearing a towel? I wear nothing, except my gauntlets, yet I feel no embarrassment."

"That's because ya have fur, I don't. How would you feel if you had all your fur shaved?"

That earned Vince a dirty look from Renamon. "Not only would I wish to kill the one who did it, I would also not wish to be seen." With that, she leaped into the air, only to land on the bed once more. Crouching, and with her arms draped over her knees.

Now, blushing more then he had for a long time, he made his way to the bathroom unhindered. It didn't take long to change, before he came out once more, now garbed in his usual selection of black jeans and a t-shirt. Much better, or so he thought. He made his way into the living room once more... Only to see Renamon sniffing around the computer desk.

"What'cha doing?" Was all he said.

Renamon paused, but not out of surprise. Her head turned slightly, until she was facing him. "Where do humans relieve themselves of waste data?"

That... Caught him by surprise. And he had to think a few moments on the question, before figuring out what it even meant. "Ya mean go to the bathroom? This way." She followed him, until they both were in the bathroom. It was still a little steamy from his shower, but other then that, average. Just a simple sink, bath and shower combination, and toilet. The last of which he was explaining to Renamon at the moment. "Just take care of your business there," He then set his hand on the roll of toilet paper sitting on the edge of the sink, "Clean yourself up with this, then push the lever. That's it."

He left right after the explanation, closing the door behind him so she could do her business. He still had a few things to figure out, before he went out that day. For one thing, he now had to think about groceries, instead of just eating at cheap fast food places. He was fairly certain taking Renamon into public places wasn't the best of ideas. The other thing was wondering what the hell to do with that digivice, as she had called it.

At roughly the size of his fist, the thing wouldn't easily fit in one of his pockets, but he felt he knew a decent place to put it. If he was a tamer, he'd have to take it everywhere, like his gun, and cellphone. But being seen with what looked like a child's toy was not something he wished to endure in public. It had a strip of fabric, and a karabiner so it could latch onto things, which had given him the idea. He grabbed his jacket, and quickly attached it on the inside of his jacket, beside a hidden pocket.

Next on the agenda, was to make a list of food. From what he'd seen last night, Renamon didn't eat just meat, but other things as well, which probably made her diet similar to that of a human. On a piece of paper, he began writing down whatever came to mind. Some of which were mac'n cheese, burgers, ceaser salad, and fish.

When he was almost done, he heard the familiar noise of a toilet flushing, which brought him back to yet another thing he needed to do. Bring Renamon up to date on all human technologies. It shouldn't be that hard, should it? The worst thing was probably the toilet, and he already had that covered. At least, he hoped. With the list mostly done, he shoved it into his pockets. Whatever he missed he'd probably remember inside the shopping center.

The door opened to reveal a ruffled, but neutrally regal Renamon walking out of the room. Other then that, though, she looked no worse then before. He stood up from his chair, and began putting his coat on, noting the odd feeling of his new gadget against his left side. He'd get used to it, like he got used to everything else. It only took a second, but before he could make his way to the door, the phone rang.

Renamon was the first to respond, by attacking the device which caused the sound. Vince was the closest, and reacted as well, but if he had been any slower, the phone would have been destroyed. Instead he knocked the phone out of hit's holder, and heard the ripping of his jacket, as well as feeling Renamon's claws graze the skin of his arm, instead. "No, don't kill the phone!"

Renamon was fast to react, withdrawing her attack, but she still connected with her Tamer's arm. Right after, she jumped away from the scene, landing on one of the chairs. That was the second time she hurt her Tamer. The first time she didn't know he was her Tamer, but now... It was a disgrace. She couldn't help but feel regret for her actions.

Vincent however, had just gotten up from the floor, with the phone in his uninjured hand. The other he shook a few times over the sink, while it slowly bled. It didn't do anything to ease the stinging, but doing something was better then nothing. As he talked, he turned around to see what Renamon was doing. She was just crouching there, staring at the table, regret and sadness etched within her face, or so it appeared to be.

Once he hung up the phone, and put it back, he attempted to cheer her up. "C'mon, it's nothing serious. Let's get this cleaned up, and get outa the house for a bit." He opened up a drawer to the left of the sink, and in it were an assortment of various medical things. Bandages, rubbing alchohol, and a first aid kit, as well as an assortment of pills. He simply took out the box containing band-aids, and closed the drawer.

As soon as he pulled back the torn sleeve of his jacket to survey the damage, Renamon landed deftly in front of him, crouching on the counter, and staring at the wounds as well. They weren't mere scratches, but they weren't deep enough to need stitches. However, before Vincent could apply bandages, or anything else, Renamon grabbed a wrist in her hand, and held his arm still.

He was confused by her actions, until she surprised him yet again. She began to lick his wounds. It made the stinging slightly worse. "Ahh. What'cha doing?"

She didn't give any heed to the question, until she finished with the first of three gouges. "I would think it's quite obvious, I'm cleaning the wounds." After that, she began on the second.

Vince merely shrugged, and let her continue. It took less then a minute for her to finish, before he could start putting the gauze bandage on. It took six wraps to completely cover the wound. He gave it an extra wrap, before he cut the gauze. To finish, he kept the bandage in place with a safety pin.

Finally finished, he pulled his tattered sleeve over the wound. "Just wonder'n, but how're ya gunna travel around town with me. Can't exactly walk on the street, being the first Digimon in the world... I think."

"If you do not wish me to walk the streets, then I'll just travel by roof-top." Was all she said, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

"Sure thing, ya do whatever ya want." And with that, they both were off.


End file.
